No Comment
Spike Witwicky, for the life of him, cannot figure out why he's in Korea, much less why he's in the sick bay, as he feels perfectly /fine/. He's not in his bed - he's being chased down the halls as he hobbles along with some makeshift cast on his broken leg. "Doctor, get me a shuttle!" "Sir, /please/-" Apocryphacius is recovering from some kind of injury. He doesn't even remember why. He would be worried that his memory was going, but one of his faces is on a bit loose, and he imagines that faulty connection is likely the source of his problems. It'll fix itself eventually, he hopes! In any case, he observes Spike trying to leave, and Apocryphacius contemplates what to do. After a moment, he offers halteringly, "...well, I /could/ offer a second opinion as to whether or not it would be advisable for you to be released from treatment, sir." Amber MacKenzie, a curious woman, wants to know what happened on Cybertron last night, so she comes in search of Mr. Witwicky. How'd she find out he was here? Well, being attached to General Faireborn's office (though only for a short time longer) has its benefits, and high security clearance is one of them. Ah, and a certain Quintesson is also there. Two birds with one stone. As she turns a corner, she spies the race down the hall and comes to a halt before the racers plow into her. "Apocryphacius, my boy," Spike begins, turning to address him, "I appreciate your concern, but no such-" The slightly distracted gaggle of nurses lightly stumble into him as he stops before Amber. "MacKenzie. Please tell me there's some available shuttles." "Evening, Mr. Witwicky, Apocryphacius." Despite being addressed by Spike, Amber stares thoughtfully at the Quintesson for a few seconds before returning her attention to him. "There are regular shuttles running from Area 51, sir, and that's just a groundbridge hop away. And I agree with Apocryphacius; please let him check you over first." Apocryphacius pauses as Spike declares that he does not need a second opinion, only a shuttle. Well... that's honestly a confrontation that Apocryphacius is unwilling to have. Then Amber goes and insists that he should do it anyway. He looks from one to the other and wrings his tentacles. "Uhm." He looks and sounds uncomfortable. Spike Witwicky looks like he'd been told yellow hardhats have been banned. He frowns deeply, looking back to Paco, then Amber. Then Paco again. He sighs. "I've had probably ten broken limbs in my life, I can handle- Sweet Jiminy Christmas, look at that!" He points over everyone's shoulders, then makes a break for it. And with only one functioning leg, it's not much of a break. Naturally Spike doesn't get very far, because when he tries to round the corner a familiar figure steps up into his path, disproportionate arms akimbo. Well hello, Velum. She eyes the man with a quirk of a brow and an amused smirk. "Spike, just get back in bed. Don't make me carry you." Because she will, oh yes she will. "Not gonna hurt you to stay here a little longer. Besides, after what we all saw? Yeah, I'd take the time off." A glance to Amber and Apoc down and she offers them a nod of greeting. "How've things been, by the way, since that whole thing? People getting on edge?" All the while she ushers Spike back whether he wants to go or not. Amber MacKenzie *did* glance over her shoulder at Spike's lame attempt - and is ashamed she did - before spotting the new arrival. Who is right in the refugee's way. Oops. "Hullo, Vellum. Nice and quiet, the way I like them. I left the day after Retoris got all shook up, so I missed the fireworks, though I overheard a lot over the radio. What happened?" As the other lady herds poor Spike back to his room, she follows after. Apocryphacius just sighs and follows the group, tentacles still twiddling nervously. He tenders hesitantly, "Please do be careful with Corporal Witwicky. It would not serve well to injure him further. The females are coming out of the woodwork. Spike is begrudgingly marched back towards his little room. Though damned if he'll get in the bed, instead electing to stand in the doorway, beckoning Paco over and presenting his leg. He came out otherwise fairly unscuffed from an explosion, with naught but a few bandages here and there. "That's what I'm trying to figure out. Has there been a meeting? No reports? From what I gather, Galvatron was unsuccessful..." Apocryphacius rotates back and forth and admits, "I have not the slightest idea of the undertakings of Cybertron." He grabs a sweet FUTURE x-ray machine, which is both handheld and doesn't give anyone cancer, and he uses it to check out Spike's legs, looking to see if it is broken (and if so, why did not one set it? just banadges/ really?) or just bruised or sprained. Amber MacKenzie is pleased that there is no hesitation in allowing Apocryphacius to attend to Spike. The Autobots haven't been as tolerant... which is a good reason for the Quintesson to be with the EDC and not them. "No reports from the Autobots, either. You'd think something this important would warrant a report. I looked up this 'Vector Sigma', and it's apparently the Cybertronians' creator. If it's under Galvatron's control, couldn't it create more Decepticons?" She scowls and adds, "This lack of communication is annoying." Velum smirks at Apocryphacius. "Ah, don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt him." Not like she has a reason to. The only thing she'd really do is just hoist him over a shoulder if he tried to run again. Once in the room Velum has a seat on the edge of the hospital bed, seeing as Spike won't take it, and sighs as she leans a forearm against the footboard. "Long story short? Vector Sigma happened. Or at least that's what the Bots are claiming. Galvatron gained access, but wasn't able to destroy Iacon like he wanted." She shrugs faintly at Amber, "Not sure he can access it anymore. I think Galvatron tampered with it, cause it suddenly receded like it was going down into lockdown mode after he kicked a canister of something at it." A look to Spike follows up with a nod. "I'm guessing the AW would be setting up a meeting, but I haven't heard anything about a set date or anything yet." Spike Witwicky's leg is broken indeed, and he probably shouldn't be leaning on it. No pain on his features however. Perhaps he's hopped up on pills. Might explain some strange twitching. "It... It locked him out. Until it could reset, or something. But that wouldn't be for a while..." he pieces, straining to remember. "We need to be at this meeting." As if the Autobots would forget about them! He perks up. "Where's my armor? Is it still on Cybertron?" Amber MacKenzie shakes her head, baffled. "How would Vector Sigma destroy a city? It's a computer, right? Unless... is *that* what's causing the reformatting of Cybertron?" She's rather glad she wasn't there... Too many big feet, including Decepticons', trampling near her frail, armorless body. She lets Velum field Spike's question; the Nebulan was the only other one actually there. Apocryphacius frowns and suggests mildly, "Sir, your leg is broken. I really need to get you on a bed so that I can set this fracture and get you a cast." He stays out of the discussion of... Primus's creation. Somehow, it does not seem his place. Velum nods in agreement to Spike. "Agreed. I'm sure the Nebulan coverment will be there, so I'll be along. And Sky Lynx managed to grab your armor. I had it shipped back, so it should be down in the hangar getting fixed." A momentary rub at her chin is given as Amber speaks. "Yeah, I suppose it's a computer. Or something like one. Chromedome said the planet was 'reseting' itself, that's why all those new buildings were popping up and stuff. Also said there was something wrong with the code, so that's why things were starting to come out wrong." Like half built buildings. "I wonder if we can ever find out where Vector Sigma fled to, though. My exo is still connected to it.." Spike Witwicky appears deeply relieved, at least for a few seconds. "Don't... don't /fix/ it, I'll fix it. Tell them to stop fixing it." He doesn't protest Apocryphacius - any opposition to that mild tone would just make him feel guilty. He perches on the edge of the bed, propping his leg up, albeit with some difficulty. "It also had something to do with Elita. A lot of those cameras were trained on her. Apoc, no comment from you?" he regards the quint with a thoughtful look before Velum mentions her exo. "Connected how..." "Did you try to communicate with it?" Amber asks eagerly. She actually did want to follow up on Cybertron's urban renewal, but the planet - or Vector Sigma? - specifically communicated that it didn't like humans. "Your suit's connection may be the only way of getting through, since it already has an in." Apocryphacius checks on the alignment of the fracture and then injects some local numbing with a warn of, "You may feel a jab now," before manipulating the bone back into place. When he is satisfied with the alignment, he then reaches for the colourful rolls fo casting tape. he inquires, "Yellow, sir?" Apocryphacius adds, "...I really have no comment on the matter of Vector Sigma." Velum snorts softly in reply to mention of Elita, standing from the bed so Spike and Apoc have room. "Maybe they didn't like her? I'll tell them know hen I go down to check on my suit, though." Standing back she hooks the thumb of mechanical hand in her pocket while leaning back side against a cabinet, rubbing back of her neck with the other. "Back when Retoris had its quake a drone came up and plugged into my suit. Dunno how it did it, but my communication systems are now linked up with other consoles around Cybertron and can see all the relays, feeds, and commands it's sending around." Glancing to Amber, Velum shakes her head a little. "I tried when we were down there, but I don't think it really did anything. And I haven't gotten to looking at that drone yet, either." She really should do that. Holding back a comment about 'yellow', she eyes Apoc while he works, tilting head slightly. "No comment because you don't know, or just not interested?" Spike Witwicky is suddenly brought back to the world of nerves, and slowly sinks into his pillow, teeth grating. To the offer of yellow, he nods curtly. "Sss... I doubt our friend here is disinterested. You might want to get some techs to look at your exo. You captured the drone?" At length, Apocryphacius admits, "I do not feel it is appropriate for me to speculate on the matter of Vector Sigma. It was created by one of my kind, and its progeny were enslaved by my kind. I imagine it could be... inflammatory were to tender an opinion, and I would rather avoid conflict." He dips the yellow casting tape in some water, which activates it, and after appling some padding around Spike's leg, he starts to wind the yellow casting tape around. As it 'dries', it gets stiffer and warmer. Amber MacKenzie muses, "I still feel that communication will be part of the resolution to all this. Or isn't Vector Sigma sentient? Is it - he - a person?" She almost instinctively looks at the Quintesson for an answer, but then she recalls his age. "Your opinion is just as valuable as mine," she points out with some amusement. "And you aren't responsible for what others of your species have done. Each of you are individuals and make their own choices." "Hm.." Velum listens as Apocyphacius voices his opinion, arms moving to fold casually at her front. "Fair enough, though I agree with Amber." She says simply, not wanting to press further, just nodding her head after Amber speaks. Back to Spike, "They've already been over it a few times, unfortunately. It rewrote my OS, so there's not much we can do about removing it. Besides, it's actually been pretty helpful so far, since it led us down to that city, and isn't affecting anything. And yeah, the drone's up in Iacon, I think. I'm trying to find time to get over there, but Retoris cleanup is making it hard to." Apocryphacius mutters, "I am, however, responsible for what *I* have done, and that is more than enough to hold against me." He finishes up the cast and advises Spike, "Just let that dry a moment, sir, and I will arrange for some crutches for you." Through the magic of television, Spike will be all better in the next episode. "Still, MacKenzie's right, Apoc... You'll find no such judgment amongst us." Spike leans back as the cast dries, folding his arms. "You must be the chosen one, Velum," he smirks weakly. "Anyhow, don't linger here on my account. Seriously though, make sure they're not working on my armor. It's very specific!" "Speaking of which," Amber begins ominously. "I've been looking into overturning your sentence. It's a complete outrage against justice, and I have every expectation that I'll be successful." Apocryphacius swivels around to look at Amber, twitching, and he says quickly, "I appreciate your efforts, but they will not be necessary. Punishment /was/ due." Amber MacKenzie points out, her teeth gritted in suppressed anger, "99% of the EDC followed Cross's orders, and I'm sure they participated in whatever other shady doings that Cross ordered. Every technician that assisted in the formulation of the weapon also aided and abetted. None of them were put on trial." Spike Witwicky falls silent, reaching for his dataslate. He's not here to play peacekeeper, he's here to down pills and maybe catch up on some e-mail. Velum runs her hand through her air, an exasperated sigh escaping. "That's just what I need, isn't it? Being the 'chosen one'. Guess someone had to after you stepped down, eh?" She retorts back with a cheeky smile. Of course instead of token human she's token Nebulan, one would suppose. Talk of Apoc's sentence draws a loft of a brow from her, but she doesn't comment on it, especially when Amber starts talking about Cross. Yeah, don't wanna be here for that. And so with a dip of her head to them all she starts to make her way out. "I'll catch you guys later, yeah? And Spike, I'll be down in the hangar if you're going down there later. Lemme know if you need help fixing your suit." And with that she's out. Apocryphacius suggests softly and sadly, "Perhaps they should have been. It is not my place to judge." Amber MacKenzie replies just as softly, "I think you already have, and judged yourself guilty. You didn't even try to defend yourself." Apocryphacius makes something of a shrugging gesture and suggests, "The court decided I was guilty. I am not one to disagree." Amber MacKenzie crosses her arms and sighs, gathering all the patience she has. "General Faireborn told me afterwards that she was just trying to buy time for you, which is why she set the carrying out of the sentence so far in the future. There are grounds to declare a mistrial, since you were accused of both obeying and disobeying orders, a clear contradiction. Did you violate the modified Geneva conventions?" "...the modified ones?" Apocryphacius tilts to one side, optics glassy. "...no." Amber MacKenzie nods slowly. "So what is it that you're actually guilty of?" "Aside from assaulting a superior officer?" Apocryphacius asks guardedly, looking around at the cameras and the other staff bustling around. Amber MacKenzie responds promptly, "Happens quite frequently, actually. It usually results in a court martial and a dishonorable discharge, not execution. However..." Her eyes grow distant, recalling Cross's impressive last minutes of life. "General Cross demonstrated that he agreed with your actions by reversing what he'd done. In addition to that, you moved to prevent an act of genocide. Though the United States and a few others voted against the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, it *was* passed by the UN. One of its core international crimes is genocide. You acted in accordance with the ICC when you stopped Cross." Apocryphacius looks away and murmurs, "I will not speak of anything else here." Amber MacKenzie nods agreeably. "As you wish." There is another point or two she could make, but it can wait.